


Deny thy mother and refuse thy name (or I’ll no longer be a demon)

by space_ally



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining, Crowley's Houseplants - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Aziraphale, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flowers, Fluff, Heaven and Hell, Humor, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Letters, M/M, Pining, Poems, Poetry, References to Shakespeare, Shakespeare more like Shakesqueer, Stubborn Idiots, no beta we die like men, no puns I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 08:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20373496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_ally/pseuds/space_ally
Summary: ‘I hate’ she alter’d with an end,Doth follow night, who like a fiend,From heaven to hell is flown away;‘I hate’ from hate away she threw,And saved my life, saying - ‘Not you.’Aziraphale stumbles upon a collection of poems and sonnets in Crowley's flat. And someone really took those to heart. Further proof being the amount of unsend love letters addressed to the angel written by a certain demon.





	Deny thy mother and refuse thy name (or I’ll no longer be a demon)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a quote from Romeo and Juliet, altered to fit them better. 
> 
> This fic is based on the used Poem and sonnet collection I bought where someone marked some of the love poems with little 'X's. Who knows what reasoning is behind that, here's my headcanon on it.

Crowley had a particularly bad day. Aziraphale could sense that, the minute he sat foot into his flat. The whole place seemed even gloomier than usual, all the blinds were closed and the angel spent a good ten minutes trying to locate the lightswitch.

“Crowley, dear?” he asked hesitantly, nearing the bedroom. The reply he got was a groan by the demon who seemed to be buried under a pile of blankets. 

“Crowley, it’s past four on a weekday. I haven’t seen or heard from you in at least two weeks. Are you okay?”

The pile of blankets moved and revealed the demon in his usual attire, hair perhaps a little messier than what Aziraphale was used to, but other than that, he definitely didn’t look like he’d just woken up.

“‘M fine,” Crowley mumbled and strutted towards the angel, “You didn’t have to come here or anything.”

“I was worried about you, my dear,” Aziraphale replied fidgeting with his hands before he gave in and smoothed out a wayward strand falling into the demons eyes. Eyes said demon quickly hid behind the sunglasses he was carrying in his front pocket. 

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” he decided and walked past the angel, “What about me? Shall I join you, or-” he was silenced by the sound of the front door falling shut. 

“Guess not…” he said to himself and pulled a face, unsure of what to do. His eyes fell upon Crowley’s houseplants who were in desperate need of being taken care of. Aziraphale grew even more worried upon the sight of them.

He definitely spotted a few brown leaves, some withered blossoms and fallen leaves on the floor he quickly miracled away. Then he took the plant mister Crowley had replaced with a new one after the Hastur-incident and started watering the plants, whispering encouragements, petting leaves lovingly and praising their growth. 

Satisfied with his work he turned around, when his eyes fell upon a tiny potted plant on the very top of the shelf to his left, the tiniest Forget-Me-Not that was close to giving up. Aziraphale stood on his toes to reach it, still struggling, when he reached the edge of the shelf. The whole thing tilted slightly and not only the flower fell but also a book, some loose papers and some unopened letters. 

Aziraphale cursed in the most heavenly way and miracled the plant’s pot whole again before watering it and taking it back to the others. He was definitely not going to climb that shelf again. Then he noticed the mess that was left on the floor. 

The angel started picking up the papers until he recognised the book laying in their midst. It was a collection of Shakespeare’s poems and sonnets. Aziraphale dropped the papers on the spot and sat down on the floor to take a closer look at it. 

It was no special edition or anything, you could probably get a copy at every yard sale for not even 5 quid, yet it looked like it was read a million times, the pages yellowed, edges folded, parts of it marked with pencil or ink, the back almost falling apart. Carefully, the angel flicked through it and stopped upon a red cross marking one of the poems. 

_ Those lips that Love’s own hand did make _

_ Breathed forth the sound that said ‘I hate’ _

_ To me that languisht for her sake _

_ But when she saw my woeful state, _

_ Straight in her heart did mercy come, _

_ Chiding that tongue that ever sweet _

_ Was used in giving gentle doom; _

_ And taught it thus anew to greet; _

_ ‘I hate’ she alter’d with an end, _

_ Doth follow night, who like a fiend, _

_ From heaven to hell is flown away; _

_ ‘I hate’ from hate away she threw, _

_ And saved my life, saying - ‘Not you.’ _

Aziraphale took a deep breath before he turned the page to stumble over even more crosses, annotations and highlighted passages. And all of them revolved around love. 

_ O none, unless this miracle have might, that in black ink my love may still shine bright. _

_ Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks _

_ Within his bending sickle’s compass come; _

_ Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, _

_ But bears it out even to the edge of doom. _

The angel let himself get carried away by poem upon poem, read through the marked ones and felt his heart ache. He almost felt it stop, when he stumbled over his own name however. In the handwriting that was so very Crowley it was impossible to confuse with the one of someone else, he saw passages underlined and his name next to it, accompanied by what could only be interpreted of doodles. And crossed out hearts. 

“Oh dear,” the angel whispered and looked at the letters that were still on the floor surrounding him. Upon closer investigation he realized, they weren’t unopened, they were unsend. And they were all addressed to him.

He did feel his conscience protesting when he took the closest one and opened it carefully, folding it open so slowly he feared it would dissolve. 

_ Angel. Aziraphale. Enemy that I seem to be fraternising with. _

_ This is stupid. _

_ But I told myself I would finish this so here I am. Listen. _

_ Screw heaven. And hell. Honestly, I don’t give two fucks about them but I do give more than two fucks about you. _

_ I shouldn’t speak of you that way, should I? Let’s just forget the first part, listen, not everything I mentioned in the first part but the two fucks part. _

_ Screw both sides. Let’s just settle for our own. We could just, I don’t know, quit? Can we even quit being an angel and a demon? I mean I kind of quit being an angel but I would never want you to fall. Quite the painful experience. Do not recommend. _

_ I just want to be with you. _

_ I guess this is another one for the pile. _

_ Love, Crowley. _

Aziraphale bit his bottom lip, not believing what he just read so he read it again. And one more time. And one more time after that, just to make sure. 

The pile. Was he referring to all those letters? Every single one of them addressed to him? All of them hopeless rambling about them being on their own side? 

The angel folded open another one and despite the envelope displaying his name and address, he was still surprised to see his name written at the top. 

_ My dearest Aziraphale, _

_ I’ve been reading poetry and nothing but poetry for the last three weeks. Because that’s what you do when you’re trying to get over a ridiculous crush on the most beautiful angel you ever had the chance to lay your eyes upon. _

_ I don’t know how long I’ve been feeling this way, I can’t exactly spell out why I’m feeling this way I just know this: Whenever you’re with me I feel at peace. Whenever I see you smile or laugh, it’s like the world becomes a brighter place and I could listen to you talk for millenials. There’s nothing I treasure more than time spent with you and the thought of you alone makes my stomach do the most wondrous things. _

_ Ridiculous crush, like I said. _

_ When I look into your eyes it’s like suddenly being able to see a future and when I’m feeling down, a chat with you will mostly do the trick of cheering me up again. _

_ And I know it’s dumb and I know it’s selfish and writing this is making me feel dumb and selfish but I can’t go on like this, this friendship, these meetings, the unrequited feelings. I know we can’t be together. But you deserve to know how much you mean to me. _

_ I also know I’m never sending this letter. But it’s comforting to imagine I do. _

_ Love, Crowley _

Aziraphale’s hands were shaking when he put the letter down. And yet, like being steered by a higher power, though he was certain God herself had nothing to do with it as she would never agree on a relationship like theirs, he took the next letter and folded it open. 

_ Angel. _

_ It hurts. I can’t describe how much it hurts. There’s never been anyone but you and sometimes I just want to scream it at you and shake you and tell you I love you and- _

_ Love. _

_ Do I… Love you? _

_ I’ve never experienced the feeling of love. How should I know. _

_ I probably won’t ever experience it. Silly daydreaming, that’s what it is. _

_ Sometimes I hate you. So much. And then I feel bad because telling myself I hate you just makes me realise that in reality, I could never hate you, the one I detest, the one I have nothing but feelings of hatred for, the being I can’t stand… _

_ Is myself. _

_ Because I was the one who did the stupid thing and fell. Because I am a demon and I’m unforgivable and I’ll never have you not in a million years and really is there even a point in trying anymore? _

_ You shine so bright, you’re like the fucking sun and yet I shiver in the cold, reaching for your beams but never succeeding. I go too fast for you. I know. _

_ I went too fast for God as well. _

_ And then I fell. _

_ And then I fell again. For you. _

_ Crowley _

The angel muffled the sound of his sobs by hiding his face in his arms. 

The letters weren’t dated so he could only guess what time they were from but he could definitely tell some were hundreds of years old and others were more recent. And not a single one had ever found its way into his hands. Until this day. 

And he felt so conflicted.

Because he felt different, when he was with Crowley. Because he prefered his presence over anyone else’s. Because he would fall for him if he wasn’t already head over heels in love with him. 

Aziraphale dried off his tears and took a shuddering breath. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to continue. Because these letters just showed him a life he could have had. Because there was no way in heaven, hell or on earth that they could ever be together. Crowley obviously knew that. And so did Aziraphale. 

He just chose to ignore whatever improper feelings he might have harboured for the demon while the latter one didn’t. 

The angel stared at the mess around him. Looked at the collection of poems. And the little potted plant that had caused this mess. A Forget-Me-Not. How fitting. 

Aziraphale sighed deeply and looked around again to locate a blank piece of paper. He miracled himself a pen and despite better alternatives, stayed in his position on the floor, using the poem collection as a surface to put his paper on and began writing. 

And discovered it to be harder than expected. 

He didn’t know how to start. He didn’t even know how to address his demon friend. Aziraphale felt like a toddler learning to walk even though he was not only well-versed with words but also not the worst at writing in general. Yet he felt himself stumble over every single word he decided to put, crossing them out the minute he put them on paper. 

He had to find three more blank pages before he wasn’t really satisfied but didn’t hate his words completely.

_ My dear Crowley, _

_ I very much enjoy your company. _

The angel took a closer look at the one sentence he had written and groaned in frustration.

How does one translate their thoughts from their mind onto a page? What kind of mystery did he not manage to unravel to fail at such a seemingly easy thing?

_ You make me laugh. I like that. _

He crossed out both sentences.

_ I feel at home when I’m with you. _

The angel looked at his words, a little proud. Just a little. He felt the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

_ No matter what happens, seeing you and being with you has always been an anchor, security, happiness. I can’t possibly express the emotional turmoil your letters brought over me and the thought of you suffering makes me feel terrible. _

He started chewing on his pen. 

_ But this isn’t about my feelings. Well it is a little. Considering you think _ ** _your_ ** _ feeling are unrequited. _

His eyes widened in shock when he heard steps coming closer. The angel looked up just in time to see the demon coming back. 

Crowley froze.

Aziraphale did too. 

None of them dared to even move a muscle. Until Aziraphale finally found the courage to speak: “It was an accident.”

There was a look in Crowley’s eyes. The angel was able to see his expression shift, despite the sunglasses. A pleading. A wordless question. Hope, fear, years and years of pining. And the question he didn’t dare to ask. 

“We can’t.”

And Aziraphale saw the demon break. And he felt his own heart break as well. 

Usually Crowley would have made an attempt to convince him otherwise. Would have tried to tempt him by talking about choosing their own side, running away together, just the two of them. This time, he didn’t. 

He just let himself slide down the wall, shaking his head, not saying a word.

“This doesn’t change anything, though!” Aziraphale rushed to say, getting up and scattering more letters around himself. He paid them no attention and went to kneel in front of the demon who was avoiding his looks. 

“Hey, come on. Come on, look at me, love,” Aziraphale gently took the sunglasses from Crowley who still didn’t look at him, eyes shimmering in tears he didn’t cry. 

The angel put the glasses aside and gently eased down Crowley’s legs he had propped up in front of himself to form some sort of barricade. Then he shuffled closer, so that they were sharing the wall in their backs, and allowed the demon to put his head on his shoulder before he started gently carding through his hair. 

“It’s not my choice. It has nothing to do with me and what I think and what I want.”

He felt a tear landing on his shoulder and chose to not say anything about it. Crowley was still quiet.

“I didn’t know you felt this way. And for so long. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, love,” the angel whispered and kissed the top of the demon’s head, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him closer. 

“What is it, that you want, angel? Regardless of what heaven says. What is it that you want?” Crowley murmured, taking shuddering breaths, trying to stop the tears with sheer power of will. 

Aziraphale laughed sadly. 

“If I tell you, does it really make a difference? There will always be higher powers intervening. They will send us to different parts of the world, make sure, we’ll never see each other again. They will move hell and high water to end things and I know my side. I’ve seen what they do. And I can’t risk them hurting you. Not again.”

Crowley squeezed the angel tighter, “We can run away together. We can find a way. It doesn’t have to end badly, it doesn’t have to be them dictating every single thing we do.”

Aziraphale sighed. He wanted to believe the demon. He wanted to just get up, take his hand and run away with him, to a world that was a better place for them, and never let go. But that world didn’t exist. He knew that. And so did Crowley.

“Love. If I have to choose between not having you around at all and just being friends in secret… I’d rather stay your friend.”

Crowley pulled away from the hug and the angel felt his heart ache. 

“I don’t- You see, I don’t give a damn about what they say. Let them come, I won’t let go of you. Tell me this, angel, just this. What is it, that you want? And be honest.”

Aziraphale lowered his head to collect his thoughts, before looking at the demon again.

“You. It’s always been you.”

He felt Crowley’s lips on his, felt the tears that were still running down his cheeks on his own, felt all protest in himself die and let himself fall into this. Crowley wasn’t gentle, he was impatient, hurt, angry but also loving and passionate. Aziraphale felt himself melt into his touch, felt himself lean into it.

Both of them were out of breath when they parted and surprisingly, Crowley’s tears had stopped. His cheeks were tinted red, his hair was an absolute mess, completely Aziraphale’s fault for running his hands through it, and the angel was sure, he’d never seen anything more beautiful than the image he had in front of him. 

Still, his conscience, the voice of reason in his head, made its return. “We can’t-” he began, cut off by Crowley lurching forward to kiss him again, short and sweet this time. 

“Crowley we can’t-” another kiss, another unfinished sentence.

“I don’t care how many of these it takes. How often I have to tell you. I love you. I love no one but you. I want to be with you. And I will run away with you. If you let me.”

Aziraphale caressed Crowley’s cheek, a sad look on his face, “You don’t know the trouble I would put you in. I can’t do that to you.”

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hands in his squeezing them, “I already fell. You can’t imagine what that feels like. And I will do everything I’m capable of to make sure you never have to experience that. Trust me, it can’t get worse. Trust me, angel.”

He kissed Aziraphale’s cheek, the tip of his nose, his other cheek until the angel turned away. 

“It can! Crowley, stop it! You have no idea how much worse it can get! I don’t want to lose you!” he almost yelled and felt sorry immediately afterwards, seeing the demon flinch and letting go of his hands. 

“No matter what you choose, you’ll risk losing me. Because I can’t go on like this.”

Crowley got up, kicked aside a letter that was laying in his way and rushed out of the room. Aziraphale quickly followed him, grabbed his arm, before he could. 

“What is that supposed to mean, Crowley?” he asked. Crowley’s glance flicked towards the Forget-Me-Not, over to the letters and the poem collection, then back to Aziraphale. 

“I can’t do this anymore. Pretend to be your friend, your enemy at times. Pretend, there’s nothing more. And I know you’ll never be able to be with me in a different way. Because I know you. There’s reasons I never sent these letters. There’s reasons I hid them away. You were not meant to read them. Because deep down, I always knew, I didn’t have a chance. I could never compete with heaven. And I would never be the right fit for you. You can’t expect an unforgivable creature to be the object of desire of a figure of light. You can’t be damned and expect to be loved.”

Aziraphale’s breath faltered.

“You’re not unforgivable. You’re not damned. And you are worthy of love,” the angel whispered.

“Just not of yours?” Crowley asked, laughing humorlessly. 

“Oh Crowley, don’t say that. Don’t. You know- You know you mean much more to me than you let yourself see right now. It is not my decision to make however.”

The demon shook his head, suddenly his sadness changed to anger. 

“This is your life too! Just because you’re an angel, doesn’t mean your God’s slave! You can make your own decisions, stop blaming heaven for everything just because you’re scared! That’s cowardice!”

Aziraphale let go of Crowley’s arm. He felt his helplessness turn into something else too, when he took the demon by his shirt and pressed him into the wall. 

“Wanting to protect you is not cowardice. I have feelings too. I loved you too. I still do. I just don’t ignore all consequences by acting on my feelings! Sometimes I just-, I hate-”

Crowley froze again, his heart stopped and his eyes were filled with fear. 

“Not you,” Aziraphale finished his sentence. His grip on Crowley’s shirt weakened and he felt himself fall towards the demon who caught him in his arms. 

“Not you,” he repeated and closed his eyes when their lips met again. 

**Author's Note:**

> The works Aziraphale reads are all by Shakespeare and, in order of appearance: Sonnet 145, Sonnet 65 and Sonnet 116.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos make my day, if you're looking for more of my writing, check out my other fics and you can always yell at/with me on twitter (@ajayalive). I'm always here for discussing ineffable idiots. Or Shakespeare.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> AJ


End file.
